


The Last Time

by calendargirl (Jessigottagetatit)



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: 007, 00Q - Freeform, Angst, Apologetic bond, Daniel Craig - Freeform, Fluff, Happy Ending, James Bond - Freeform, M/M, MI6, Post-SPECTRE, Q - Freeform, Q is a Holmes, Songfic, Spy - Freeform, Taylor Swift - Freeform, The Last Time, bond, minor Sherlock crossover, minor Swann, sherlock crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 14:18:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7466574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jessigottagetatit/pseuds/calendargirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the blur of it all, it seemed like a stupid idea – not only had he abandoned his lifeline, but he’d left without warning, without a goodbye or farewell. But the immortal James Bond cannot escape danger for long, and an even shorter timespan would seem to exist when he gets bored; a mild case of espionage effects even the well-recovered addicts. Because that’s what he is, was. </p><p>or...<br/>a loosely based song fic on Taylor Swift's 'The Last Time' featuring Q and James' reacquaintance following his return to MI6.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Time

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first ever fic, I hope you like it and that you leave kudos/feedback if you do!
> 
> casualacquaintance.tumblr.com

_Find myself at your door, just like all those times before; I’m not sure how I got here, all roads they lead me here…_

In the blur of it all, it seemed like a stupid idea – not only had he abandoned his lifeline, but he’d left without warning, without a goodbye or farewell. The familiar grey of a hospital room was visible from his spot on the bed; itchy IV lines running into his forearm and a plaster on his hand, indicating a recently removed cannula.

In the corner sat Madeleine, frowning out at the overcast London sky – it hadn’t been her plan to come back, not after Spectre. She knew it was the end. The immortal James Bond cannot escape danger for long, and an even shorter timespan would seem to exist when he gets bored; a mild case of espionage effects even the well-recovered addicts. Because that’s what he is, was. He just couldn’t resist investigating that mystery in France, the one that led to M’s discovery of his location and the resulting ‘rescue attempt’.

She was done. She didn’t want this life, or this broken man; seemingly lost without a witty voice whispering directions in his ear – she couldn’t be that for him. She didn’t want to be that for him. And so she rose from her chair, handed him the discharge papers she knew he’d demand and left, not looking back at the shadow of a man she thought she knew.

_I imagine you are home…_

He stumbled through the doors to MI6, his ID never wiped in the hope that he may one day reappear; directing his attention away from the unwavering gaping faces of operatives and everyday workers he started towards the elevators, running a hand through his unruly hair and wincing at the way it made his broken ribs throb. The hollow ringing of the bell pulled him out of the fog of his daydream, wondering what it would be like to see the man he left behind again; his witty repartee, off-the-mark fashion and satisfied smirk alighting a fire in James that he had missed so dearly in the 18 months he had been away.

Q branch’s entrance was just as he remembered it, polished stainless steel and cool, conditioned air meeting him as he stepped through the door and a low rumble of boffins all working on projects until they were fit to gain approval from their head, Q. Only this time something had changed; not the branch, but the man running it. Gone were the quirky argyle jumpers, socks and brogues, and in their place a well-tailored suit and tie with plain, black dress shoes.

The Q he knew was gone, replaced with a fragile and studious looking man, standing timidly in front of the wall of monitors displaying all active missions. James approached him from behind, heard the boffins around him quiet with shock, some catching his eyes as they stared at him with disgust – he didn’t understand, what had happened to Q?

_Right before your eyes, I’m breaking…_

He reached for his elbow, brushing it with his fingers before Q spun quickly, flinching away from a touch he would have once lent into. A soft gasp left his mouth at the sight of the smaller man, always dainty but never as hollow-seeming as he was now. Q – Quentin – frowned and reached abortedly for James’ wrist, before grasping it and pulling him forward until they met his office door.

Once inside, he hits the button which turns the windows to the masses opaque and turns to Q, who is now behind his desk, holding the edges as if for dear life. He doesn’t understand what had happened to him, to his Q.

“Q?” James asked hesitantly.

“Why are you here? Back? You left with her and now you’re here?” Q replied brokenly, “What more could you possibly want from me? You want to have a front row seat to my breakdown? Be my guest.”

“I, I don’t understand,” he responded, “Why are you in a suit, of all things? You look so thin, have you not been taking care of yourself?” James didn’t know how to handle this new Q, approaching him carefully and reaching out a hand towards him, over his desk. Q flinched away, sinking down to the poured concrete floor, shivering whilst a tear rolled slowly down his face only to be slapped away by a thin hand, denying himself weakness to the man he loved.

Crouching in front of him, James studied his face and considered the last 18 months without his Q, how empty he’d felt when he realised he couldn’t tell him the small tidbit he’d uncovered… only he had had Madeleine when he left him all alone. Q’d had Alec and Eve, of course but they didn’t know Q the way he did, how to handle him and make sure he was well fed and rested and loved.

“Sweetheart, I can’t, I’m sorry I left,” James gently explained, “But I’m back now and we can get you back on track-“

“You are not allowed to call me sweetheart! You think we can just get ‘back on track’? After everything I’ve been through while you’ve been gone?” he sobbed, bringing a hand up to scrub at his face before letting it drop and staring reproachfully up at the agent who was hovering above him, “18 months and we can just ‘get back on track’ ? You have no idea how hard it’s been! You didn’t say goodbye and you just left me here all alone; you knew how much I needed you! You were my only family!” James fell back on his heels, shocked from where he had crouched down next to Q’s limp frame; realising what he’d done to the man he’d loved, exactly what he had caused.

“I’m so sorry Q, but-“

“But!” Q screeched, “You think I care about your fucking ‘buts’ and ‘ifs’ right now? You broke me, slowly and steadily as the hope drained out of my head that you would come back for me and you think a ‘but’ is going to fix that? You left me and you don’t just get to waltz back in here with a ‘but’ and we’ll be right back on track? That’s not how this works!” With that, his one and only staggered to his feet, shoving James away; storming out of his office and through his branch until he disappeared from James’ line of sight.

__________________

_You wear your best apology, but I was there to watch you leave…_

When James finally worked up the courage to ring Q’s doorbell it was already 8 o’clock, his hands juggling now cold Indian takeaway – Q’s favourite – in the hopes of appeasement. He heard shuffling behind the door and a deep sigh before it was wrenched open by Q. His Q. The man he had left in his quirky Doctor Who pyjamas with tousled hair – a frown on his face, yes; but it was still the Q he had kept in his memory for so long. Until he turned and walked away from the door in resignation, not wanting to fight but still not crazy about granting the man that left him the forgiveness he so much needed.

Following him into the ‘secure’ apartment, James looked around at the familiar scene: TV on, computer parts scattered across the coffee table and his overflowing bookcase of multiple language textbooks and every topic under the sun – it felt like home, even if it had been nearly a year since he had left.

Q was sat in his armchair by the bookcase, isolated so James couldn’t get too close to him; he knew if he got near enough outside of work he would break, his professional demeanour gone and mask off. As it was, James sat the takeout food on the kitchen counter and wandered back through to the main room, squatting in front of Q and taking his hand.

“I know that I was gone a long time, and that I shouldn’t have left,” he began, “but I realise now how much that must have hurt you, chopped your legs off and killed our relationship before it had even started – but I left, and I can’t change that. I missed you, and nothing was the same without you, I need you, so much, Q. Please, please just let us sit and eat and enjoy each other, maybe give me another chance?"

_All those times I let you in, just for you to go again, they disappear when you come back; everything is better…_

Despite all of his earlier promises to himself, Q let out a small sob and clutched James’ hand tightly, finding it impossible to resist the man he had loved for such a long time.

“I don’t know if I can do this again,” he spoke shakily, “if you can promise that you won’t leave me - that you’ll stay and be mine then okay, but I am not just your plaything for you to pick and choose when you want me. It’s all or nothing James.”

_This is the last time, I won’t hurt you anymore…_

James lurched to his feet, grabbing Q up with him and pulling him into a tight embrace before kissing him squarely on the mouth; putting everything he had into that kiss, trying to convey his thanks wordlessly, his love for the man he left and his promises to never leave again.


End file.
